It just wasn't Nick's luckiest day
by headinthecloudsgirl
Summary: It just wasn't Nick's luckiest day.. he'd driven by Monroe's and had found himself in the middle of a family dispute - oh and then there were angry Blutbaden and several Wildesheers - not even for him a normal day. Tag to 3x12 'The Wild Hunt'; contains Nick whump, because I love it :)
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello Grimm fandom :) First time venturing here, so I hope I didn't do too bad. This will be a two-shot and it picks up after 'The Wild Hunt', because I simply couldn't resist :) I wrote the beginning of this before the show continued, so I guess you could call it AU..**

**As always, I own nothing, just play with the dolls :)**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

This time, it was actually just a coincidence that Nick drove by Monroe's. Yes, he had intended to ask some questions about the Wildesheer, but not today.

Something had been up with Monroe lately, in a positive way, but still something was different and Nick for once didn't want to walk into something he wasn't supposed to see.

That good intention, however, only lasted until Nick saw Rosalee storming out of the house, door more or less slamming shut.

Before Nick could even consider stopping to go and talk to her, she was already in her car and driving away.

"What the hell?"

It didn't take his enhanced hearing to be able to hear Monroe shouting along with somebody else and Monroe shouting couldn't be good. He was always controlled, put almost everything aside with a smile and a joke, never daring to woge out of rage.

Frowning, Nick stopped his car, got out and walked up to Monroe's door. He heard his friend arguing with someone, voice dripping with venom. Whatever it was that was going on in there, Nick had to step in, if only to prevent Monroe from doing something he would regret later.

Taking a deep breath, he knocked and decided to stick to the truth why he was here, not some Wesen-related case.

The door opened and he heard Monroe sigh, "Rosalee." Then the Blutbad realized who was standing in front of him. "Oh, Nick, crap."

"I just saw Rosalee drive away – you okay in here?" Nick asked, peering into the living room, where a man and a woman were standing.

The man looked quite angry, he must have been the one who yelled at Monroe, and his anger was also palpable when he demanded, "Who is this?!"

Nick side-stepped Monroe who plainly ignored the asked question but instead more or less answered Nick, but not without turning to the man in his living room.

"Rosalee left, what I think you should do now," it was spoken more calmly than before, but Monroe's posture gave him more than clearly away.

"Oh, we need to stop this," the woman Nick still didn't know sighed and turned to the man who was probably her husband.

"We go, we are not coming back!"

"That's fine with me, dad!" Monroe barked back, causing Nick's head to snap in his direction.

Great, he just walked into a huge family dispute and somehow Rosalee had something to do with it as well.

"Enough, we're done! He needs to figure out who he is!" Monroe's father yelled and woged into his Blutbad alter ego.

Nick should have known that that was coming, he really should have, but he couldn't help taking a step back at the sudden woge and the outraged Wesen in front of him. As it turned out, it wasn't his best idea, also judging by the look Monroe threw in his direction.

"A Grimm!"

_Well, shit._

It seemed like Blutbaden weren't afraid of Grimms like just everybody else, especially not when they were already really pissed. Before Nick could even blink, Monroe's mum had also woged and she and her husband were snarling at him, teeth bared.

* * *

"Mom! Dad! No!" Monroe yelled and stepped with his arms wide protectively in front of Nick, trying to avoid the inevitable.

His parents had actually been upset about him and Rosalee and now here was Nick – why did he always come at the least appropriate times? – his friend who happened to be a Grimm, the perfect target for two angry Blutbaden.

His parents sprang towards them, forgetting themselves, much like Monroe had when he'd been in the woods with Angelina. They were his family, yes, but Nick was his friend who was at the downside of things right now, even though he was a Grimm.

Monroe knew his parents, knew that they liked a good hunt, a nice prey and that they probably wouldn't stop lusting for Nick when he just stepped in between.

All of those thoughts raced through his mind in a split second, then he already woged and tried to keep his mum and dad off of Nick.

His Grimm was always desperate to do the right thing and solve issues as a cop first, not as someone who decapitated everyone he saw, but he was handling himself rather well with Wesen. Monroe had learned that lesson, first clue being the two Reapers Nick had dealt with on his own, then other abilities slowly came, like the improved hearing.

Nick also had one huge advantage no one knew if it was standard for Grimms or an aftermath of his zombie-episode; whenever he was in acute danger, his body shut down and ran on low-flame without any negative side effects aside from looking dead.

It was probably those abilities that kept Nick from being eaten the moment Monroe's parents decided that he was their dinner.

Monroe engaged his mother first, knowing she was more likely to stop this madness than his dad was. It didn't take too much, just some struggling that wasn't even half as serious as his mother could get – he knew that from experience – until he got her calm enough to stop attacking him or Nick. When Monroe was certain that she wouldn't go rogue as soon as he released her from his grip, he turned to his dad, who was trying to beat the crap out of Nick while snapping at him, aiming for the delicate throat.

"Dad! Stop!" Monroe cried and wrestled his father away from Nick, trying to bend his arms behind the back, holding on for dear life. "Nick is my friend, stop!"

Well, that at least got his dad's attention; he ripped himself free from Monroe's grip and turned to look at him, "I thought I raised you to be better than this! Friends with a Grimm! Alice, we are leaving before I lose myself completely!"

With that, the two Blutbaden stormed out of the door, slamming it shut behind them and leaving a shocked Monroe behind, mouth hanging open.

Frozen to the ground, he needed a couple of seconds before he got his act together and his feet finally listened to his brain screaming at them to move to Nick, who was crouched on the floor, one hand steadying his body.

"Nick! You okay?" Monroe asked and keeled down next to him, searching for any obvious injuries next to the slowly forming bruise on his cheek.

"Yeah, I just need a minute. Your dad's got a mean swing," Nick tried to laugh it off, but still refrained from standing or even looking up.

His head hurt like hell and he didn't think he could stand up without passing out, at least not right now. When it came to fighting, he was always back on his feet in a matter of seconds, more or less immune to the effects of beatings – at least that was his experience since he fought Wesen. If he was less prone to injuries because he got better at defense or his body could just take more, Nick wasn't able to tell, but he also didn't really care.

"C'mon, the couch's gotta be more comfortable than crouching down there," Monroe said and bodily hauled Nick upright, keeping him on his feet as he swayed. "Well, that was unexpected."

"What part? Me coming in here or you parents wanting to eat me?" Nick asked and slowly sank down onto the soft couch, eyes closed and one hand protectively curled around his sore ribs.

"Neither actually. Well, both somehow, but originally the reaction from them towards Rosalee was, well, over the top," Monroe sighed and then turned to get Nick a glass of water. "They came to eat dinner – earlier than expected – everything went fine and then they smelled her and completely lost it. Our relationship is against tradition, it will ruin our families, blah blah blah. They didn't even care that we're in love. Rosalee stormed out, what I can totally understand, you came in and the disaster took its course."

"Sorry," Nick offered when his friend appeared at his side again and took a sip of the water. His head was still hurting, but a lot less than a few minutes earlier.

"Nah, not your fault. Why did you come by anyway?"

"Drove here by coincidence, saw Rosalee driving away and decided to ask if everything was okay."

Monroe looked at Nick doubtfully, "No case?"

"Well, there _is_ a case but I didn't want to disturb you. Something was different with you guys lately and I decided to not come over every other evening asking for help," Nick said and sat up – thank god for a hard head that could take a hit.

"Okay, this is not the way I wanted to tell you, but I proposed and Rosalee said yes. That's why my parents lost it." Monroe said and saw the inner fight in his Grimm, "No, don't say anything. I guess I have to give her some time to cool off and then we'll talk about if you can congratulate me or not… So, what's the case?"

"Someone is scalping his victims. They were all uniformed, but that is as much they have in common. Judging by the force that was used to rip or saw the skin off of the victims' heads, Hank and I are thinking Wesen," Nick explained and looked up to his friend, who lost quite a bit of his color. "Everything alright, Monroe? Just tell me and I'll leave you alone to set things right with Rosalee and your parents."

"No, no, it's not that… Nick, you got it bad, you know that? Why can't you just come over and tell me there are two Eisbiber arguing or something – no, you've got to walk right into a Wildesheer," Monroe rambled and ran a hand through his hair.

"A Wildesheer?"

"I guess it's time for another history lesson, c'mon, the trailer it is."

* * *

In the next hour, Nick learned everything about Wildesheer that was written in his books as well as the tales Monroe got told as a kid. It was just typical that no one knew how to kill them and that they wanted his head – why go the easy way, right?

"Great. So we're up against some Wesen, basically from hell, that are unstoppable when wearing those nice jackets made out of human scalps and we don't know how to kill them, right?" Nick groaned and buried his face in his hands.

"Yeah, that's pretty much it," Monroe nodded and sat down on the bed next to the desk. "We've had worse."

"Right, zombies. Look, everybody's got some sort of weakness, we just have to find it. Okay, so, why would they wear scalps? The book says they give them power, make them invincible – what if taking their own scalps reverses that? When gaining hair means they're stronger, then taking hair should make them weaker, right?" Nick asked, the resignation washed from his face.

"That is really not a bad idea," Monroe answered and stood to take a look at the cabinet full of weapons, surely there would be some nice knifes to cut off the Wildesheers' hair

He was just taking one beautiful curved knife in his hand, as loud thunder rolled over their heads, not the normal thunder, but one more auspicious and dark – like it came right from hell.

"Oh, crap. Guess it's time to test your theory, Nick," Monroe cursed and threw another knife at the Grimm, who could it easily with one hand, blade shining in the dim light of the trailer.

"Let's hope it's any good."

The two of them stepped out of the trailer and barely had enough time to close the neat little door behind them, as two tall figures in coats came into view.

"Seems like your childhood tales were right about the thunder," Nick grimaced and then added, "I take the left one, you the right one, okay?"

Monroe just nodded and woged, something that the Wildesheer did as well.

Nick focused on the task on hand and tried not to keep an eye on Monroe, he could handle himself. The Grimm engaged the Wesen and managed to get a punch in, before the reply came in form of a fist to his ribs. Yeah, right, supernatural power.

Nick could feel his heart rate slowing and knew that he switched into zombie-mode, even though he had no mirror to check. Punch by punch was exchanged between the two and Nick really had trouble keeping up, he was no longer wondering why nobody knew how to kill them, he was barely able to give the guy a decent right hook.

Somewhere in between changing tactics, he felt his lip split open and then just some seconds later a cut appeared on his left temple, the blood slowly running in his eye. Nick pretty much roared, twisted his body in a way he didn't know was possible and then was suddenly sitting on the guy's back, knife in his hand. With one precise slash, he cut off the hair along with some skin and was surprised what kind of effect that had; the Wildesheer just collapsed with one last grunt, going boneless in a matter of seconds.

"Well, seems like my theory is quite right," Nick muttered to himself, still sitting on the ground on the Wildesheer before turning to his friend, whom he still could hear fighting left from him.

Before he was even able to turn his head, however, Nick was grabbed by the collar of his jacket and lifted from the ground. _Where the heck did the third guy come from?,_ he asked himself, then felt yet another fist connect with his already cracked ribs and felt at least one snapping in half.

Nick hissed in pain as the hands holding him shifted from the collar to his neck, cutting off his oxygen. That, he could have dealt with, zombie-him didn't need as much air, but his skull connecting with something metallic and really hard, he couldn't handle.

_Shit_, Nick thought, as darkness took him.

* * *

**A/N: So, what do you guys think so far? It's always nice to hear the voices of a new fandom *hint hint* - but no pressure :) **

**The next part will be up tomorrow or the day after! See you :))**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Here comes the second chapter :) Thanks for the reviews, hope you all like the caring that now comes after hurting Nick..**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Monroe just climbed off of the Wildesheer he had been fighting, as he heard a really ugly noise that couldn't be healthy, no matter where it had come from.

One look around him answered his silent question as he saw yet another Wildesheer holding, or more like choking, Nick while pounding the Grimm's head against some metallic construction repeatedly.

No matter how resilient Nick was, that could be no good for his head. Good for Monroe that the guy was so into beating Nick up that he didn't notice the Blutbad coming from behind. Monroe jumped and scalped him easily, catching Nick as he fell from the now lose grip of his attacker.

"Nick? Can you hear me, man?" His Grimm was no longer looking like a walking dead, which was a progress, but out like a light.

Monroe let the two of them sink to the ground, leaning Nick against the metal thing and then crouching down next to him, his hand buried in Nick's dark hair, searching for a wound. And a wound did he find, ugly and steadily oozing blood.

"Ooh, not good, so not good," Monroe muttered and tried to decide what he should do.

First, check for other injuries, that sounded good. His now bloody hand searched Nick's body up and down for shifting bones or other blood leaking injuries, and Monroe was relieved when it was just two broken ribs - though the rest were probably cracked or at least bruised -and the cut on Nick's temple that he noticed. Sure, the ribs would hurt like a bitch and the rest of Nick's body would be covered in bruises the next day, but it was better than twenty broken bones.

Despite the injuries being rather small, one thing was for sure; he couldn't let Nick stay here, the wounds needed to be tended to.

"Do you have a fist aid kid in the trailer, buddy? Probably not, right? Okay, hospital or Rosalee?"

If they drove to the hospital, there would be trouble explaining how Nick got hurt and probably a police investigation. If they drove to Rosalee, there would be arguing, possibly, and the chance that Nick couldn't be treated properly. But then they could still drive to the hospital.

"Rosalee it is," Monroe sighed and carefully scooped the unconscious Grimm in his arms.

* * *

Somewhere in between hoisting Nick into his Beetle and calling Rosalee to give her a heads-up, Nick groaned, what caused Monroe to glance at him.

"Yeah, hold on, Rosalee, I think he's coming to," Monroe said and drove a bit more slowly. "Nick? Can you hear me, dude?"

Nick just squinted and groaned again, his eyes not even halfway open before he pressed them closed again. "Oh god, that hurts," he hissed and tried to take a deep breath, only then remembering about the rib that he thought he had felt breaking. Caught halfway between breathing in and out, Nick tried to stay as still as possible to not aggravate the broken bone any further. Except that didn't help much.

"Nick?" Monroe asked again, Rosalee in his ear completely silent, and took in the pallor of his friend's skin, the cold sweat and the dried blood in his face. Nick really didn't look too good.

"Listen, I'm taking you home, alright? Rosalee'll come over and try to patch you up, how's that sound?"

Nick just groaned again and desperately tried to find a more comfortable position without moving too much. He really didn't care what Monroe was saying, he was in pain, in a lot of pain.

"You rather wanna go to the hospital?"

Well, that rang a bell. "No, no hospital. Too much to explain," Nick rasped and dared to open his eyes again. It was almost dark by now, but the little light was enough to make his headache even worse and his stomach churning.

"Okay, I'll take you home, just.. take it easy, alright?" Monroe said and concentrated on the street again, the sooner he was home, the faster Nick would get help. "Rosalee, did you get that? Great, thanks, really. Look, I know we have a lot to talk about… yeah, later, alright."

Monroe hung up and sped up a bit more. Nick was never this silent.

"Nick, tell me what hurts, man."

"Right hand, chest, head, feel sick," Nick groaned and took a steadying breath through his nose. Throwing up with a broken rib was never fun, he knew from experience.

"You want me to pull over? Don't puke in my car, alright?" Monroe said and desperately wondered if he had a bucket somewhere, just if he wasn't fast enough. Then he noticed something else, "What's wrong with your hand?" Maybe he could distract Nick a bit from the nausea.

"Punched with it. Got the angle wrong, guess I sprained it. And I won't puke in your car, promise," Nick answered and opened his eyes again. It was better when he saw where they were driving than just feeling the movement, even though the light hurt.

Just some more turns and they would be in front of Monroe's house, thank god.

* * *

The moment Monroe parked his Beatle, he let a relieved sigh escape his lips. They had made it home without any incidents and it looked like Rosalee was already there, too.

He took his key and exited the car, making his way over to Nick's side, the Grimm wasn't really in any condition to open the door by himself.

Monroe carefully opened the door, knowing that Nick was slightly leaning against it, and then went to unbuckle his friend who grinned despite himself. "You know I'm not a baby, right? I can do stuff like that myself."

"Oh yeah? Well, then I guess I don't have to help you get out, hm? Never mind the two broken ribs you have." Monroe bantered - there was no sharpness in his words, just fondness.

Before any more words could be exchanged, the front door of Monroe's house opened and Rosalee came into view.

"Monroe? Nick?" she called and already headed towards them, it must be quite bad, when they didn't come out of the car immediately.

"Yeah, it's us. Just trying to convince Nick here that he might need a little help getting inside," Monroe answered and pointedly looked at Nick.

"Alright, alright. Maybe I could use a hand," Nick murmured and shifted his legs that they were dangling out of the car. That, however, also meant that his upper body was no longer supported by the car seat and that in turn was just plain painful. He sucked in a shallow breath and held out his good hand somewhere in the direction he knew Monroe was standing.

Monroe snorted and slowly helped Nick out of the car, trying not to hurt him any further. They somehow made it into the house and to the couch – the stairs up to Nick's room were out of discussion – where he let Nick sit, but not lay down yet.

"Nick, listen to me, okay? We need to take of that shirt, it's full of blood, and I need to take a look at those ribs. Are you still feeling nauseous?" Rosalee questioned and frowned at the grey tinge of Nick's skin, just like Monroe had done in the car.

"Yeah, okay.. yeah," Nick answered and closed his eyes, the world was spinning after the trip from the car to where he was sitting.

"Do you feel like you're going to be sick?" Rosalee clarified and stroked her thumb over his temple, mindful of the cut, wanting to soothe him a bit.

"Dunno."

"Just tell me, if you need a bucket, alright?" She waited until Nick had nodded and then turned to Monroe. "Can you help him out of the shirt? I have basically brought the whole spice shop to the kitchen and will make something for the pain and nausea."

"Yeah, alright." Monroe nodded and turned to Nick, before he could even open his mouth to say something however, Rosalee was back and gave him a trash can. "Just for emergencies."

"Good idea." The Blutbad placed it within easy reach and then tried to coach Nick into taking off his sweater and shirt. He could tell it was hurting by the way Nick grimaced every now and then and tried to not notice the tears that were standing in the Grimm's eyes but were refused to fall.

"Ssh, it's okay, I've got you, Nick. You're okay," he knew he was telling lies but it made both of them feel better, until the shirt finally lost the battle and got off. Why did Nick always have to wear so close-fitting stuff?

Once Nick had gotten rid of the shirt, Monroe wished he still had it on. Nick's torso was covered in bruises, a lot of skin red and blue, the places around where the broken bones were dark blue, almost black.

"Oh, boy." Monroe sighed as he took in the pitiful picture of his friend in front of him.

"I heal fast," Nick said and tried to get a smile out of Monroe. It was true, at least, he really did heal a lot more quickly than the average human. That was also why he refused to go to a hospital, he knew that his injuries weren't so severe that they needed to be prodded by doctors, his body told him how badly he was hurt. "And I'd really like to lie down, my head is killing me."

"Just wait until Rosalee has her Trank down your throat, then you can rest, okay?" Monroe said and silently begged his girlfriend to do whatever she was doing faster, it was killing him to see Nick hurting. "How's that nausea?"

"Better. I don't feel like puking up my guts right now," Nick smiled and was grateful when he saw Rosalee walk back into the living room. She was carrying a glass of something in one hand, a bowl of warm water with a washcloth in the other. And somehow there was also tube of ointment pinned between her arm and body.

"Nick? I want you to drink this and then lie down, while I wash the blood off your face and take care of you ribs. You can rest, but we'll need to wake you up every hour to check up on you concussion and make you take some more medicine, alright?" Rosalee asked and handed him the glass of Trank she had made.

Nick took a sniff of it and frowned, it smelled really bitter and just disgusting.

"I know it doesn't smell, or taste, good, but try to keep it down, okay?"

Nick nodded and just thought to get it over with. Taking as deep a breath as he could, he put the glass to his lips and took a hearty gulp. It really tasted as disgusting as it smelled and it made him gag against his will. Monroe grabbed the trash can and put it in Nick's hands while taking the glass from him, wincing in sympathy for the younger man.

Nick closed his eyes and focused on breathing in and out, he _had_ felt better before, but after the gagging, he now felt like throwing up any second.

Nick retched again but thankfully, nothing came back up. His hands were shaking by now and he felt the cold sweat on his forehead. Next, he felt the couch dip next to him and then Rosalee's hand on his back, rubbing circles.

"Monroe's getting some peppermint oil and ginger tea, you'll feel better soon, I promise," she said and Nick enjoyed her soothing tone.

"I'm right here, dude. Tea's ready in some minutes and until then you can sniff some peppermint oil, it'll help," Nick heard Monroe saying and felt his heart rate slowing down a bit.

He opened his eyes again and took one last calming breath before putting the trash can back down, but still in easy reach.

"Well, that was close."

"And not too comfortable with those ribs, I guess," Monroe said and placed the open little flask of peppermint oil on the table next to Nick's head.

"No, no it was not," Nick answered wincing and eyed the rest of the Trank suspiciously, "Do I need to drink the rest of it?"

He really really didn't want to force that stuff down his throat again – he'd rather have the tea Monroe was making.

"It'll help with the pain and the nausea, so it would be best if you drank it. Maybe smaller sips, this time," Rosalee said and gave him the glass again.

Nick somehow managed to get the drink down, even without actual gagging this time and was more than happy to be allowed to lie down afterwards.

"I'd rather have you on your side in case you get sick, but that wouldn't do your ribs any good. So, you can lie down on your back but you say something the moment you feel like you're about to throw up, alright?" Rosalee asked and waited for Nick's careful nod, before she and Monroe helped him lie down, chest lightly elevated from the pillows.

Nick was aware of Rosalee cleaning at first the wound at the back of his head and then starting on the cut and split lip, not everything was feeling warm and fuzzy and he slowly succumbed to sleep – the Trank _did_ help, even if it was disgusting.

* * *

Monroe sighed and looked up from his oily fingers; he had been putting ointment onto Nick's ribs. The Grimm was sleeping safe and sound on his couch, the whole body black and blue, although there was no longer blood to be seen.

Rosalee had finished cleaning Nick's wounds and bandaging his hand in record time and still had looked up to find a sleeping Grimm in front of her, now Monroe sat with him and renewed the ointment from time to time.

"Hey. I guessed you could use a tea," Rosalee sat down on the other armchair and put a cup of tea on the little tale, peppermint oil still on it.

"Yeah, thanks."

_How did you best address the elephant in the room?,_ he thought and then just ran with it.

"Rosalee, listen, about what my dad said – "

"You don't have to apologize, Monroe. They're traditional and I can understand that it was a – let's say surprise – to them that I am a Fuchsbau."

"It still gave them no permission whatsoever to say the things they did. If they can't accept you, so be it, it's their problem. I know that I love you, Rosalee, and that I will marry you, no matter what my parents think of it."

"I love you too, Monroe," Rosalee smiled back and knew that everything was alright between them, "Maybe they just need some time and then we start again."

"That would be nice," Monroe answered and glanced at one of the many clocks in their home, "Time for another concussion check."

He stood up and approached Nick, lightly shaking his friend's shoulder to wake him up.

"Nick Burkhardt, at your place, 2014, Wildesheer," Nick mumbled and closed his eyes again. "I feel fine, headache's almost gone. Now let me sleep, please?"

Monroe chuckled to himself and covered the young Grimm with a nearby blanket. "Okay, buddy, you got yourself a deal. But I'll stay downstairs, so just say something when you don't feel good."

"Alrigh'."

Monroe turned to find Rosalee grinning at him.

"What? Do you have any idea how often we've done this? I mean, this is not the first time I've had a concussed Nick on my hand," Monroe said and cringed at how that sounded. "Boy, he really can't stay out of trouble if I can't think of any new questions to ask, can he?"

"No, but he's got you to check up on him, so he'll be alright."

* * *

**A/N: I'd let it end here, but of course there is always the possibility of continuing and a bit more taking care of Nick... Tell me what you think?**


End file.
